Unplugged
by SilentBanshee
Summary: Another "Modern girl gets zapped into M.E." story, except that she doesn't boink Legolas and the fellowship would really rather not have her with them.
1. Fuzzy Confusion

Disclaimer: I own a DVD copy of the only two currently available LoTR movies, I own a computer, and I own the character Beverly. The rest belongs to someone else: Tolkien, Walsh, Jackson, New Line ...I don't know, but I think I've safely escaped copyright infringement.  
  
P.S.: This is based on the regular, non-extended, version of the triology.  
  
P.P.S.: I apologize for any really awkward wording...I've been listening to too much Donovan.  
  
UNPLUGGED  
  
Chapter One: Fuzzy Confusion  
  
By SilentBanshee  
  
She had been an odd child; had been a strangely serious child and no one ever quite knew what to make of her. As an infant, toddler, and young girl, her serious--and somewhat glum--disposition were overlooked because of honey glazed curls that fell like a restless waterfall down to her waist and facial features that made both relatives and strangers alike feel as though she resembled a Madame Alexander doll rather than any of the other children her age. But as she grew, her strange beauty dulled and became easily overlooked and all that could be seen was her odd seriousness. From then on she lived without the adoration of her early childhood to take the bite out of the silent disapproval that she had always been met with. And so, she hardened and learned to live through herself, acting as all the main players in her life. She became her own mother, lover, and child.  
  
And that was what was on her mind when she walked through her comfortably sized New York rent shutting off every light, unplugging every electronic, and closing every window before entering her bedroom. Finally, bathed in a darkness that her eyes easily adjusted to, she threw back the sheets on her bed, climbed in, and cocooned herself in its warmth that seduced her eyelids into sliding down her irises and caused her heart to swell and push against her breastbone. It had been three years since she swore off eating any animal products that had been in a factory farm, eighteen months since she gave up all other meat, and four days since she gave up all food not already mentioned. Being in a world that valued efficience more than humanity sickened her to the point where she no longer felt any desire to live in such a world.  
  
Just before sleep claimed her, her vision went milk white and her brain pulsed with a voice that did not belong to her saying "You must wake." The voice said this a second time, this time placing emphasis on "must" and she felt herself unable to disobey. With a little resistence, her eyelids opened, revealing a set of green eyes that had grown dull from depression and self-imposed starvation. With those eyes, she wasn't altogether very surprised that the pale gold walls of her bedroom had been replaced with trees several times her own age.  
  
"She wakes," a man looming overhead said. His voice was monotone and much different from the one that had invaded her mind an indeterminable length of time before. This man's head was turned away from her and all she could see of his head was flaxen hair and large, angular ears. A second man joined the first and fell to the ground in a crouch.  
  
"Are you alright, my lady?" His voice was deep and smooth, as though he had spent all of his life drinking honeyed tea and nothing else. She nodded with her eyes transfixed on the first man and her eyebrows furrowed in fuzzy confusion.  
  
"I'm all right," she replied in one stale breath that sounded more like a frog's croak than any voice she had ever spoke in.  
  
The decadently voiced man nodded in agreement and put his hand out which she accepted after a moment's contemplation and he then raised the both of them up off of the ground through use of various muscles and tendons. Decaying leaves were tangled in her hair and dirt had stained both her skin and cotton nightgown. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the trees, the rocks formations to the right of her that sat like the remains of a demolished mansion, and the water that sparkled in the distance. She counted six people standing between the water and herself, not including the two that had been watching her. "Where am I?"  
  
The pale-haired man in front of her searched her face for a moment with his blue all-seeing eyes before replying. "We are at Anon Hen on the river Anduin; Middle Earth, hiril nin."[1]  
  
She squinted at the pale man and furrowed her eyebrows together, casting a shadow over her eyes. "I don't understand."  
  
"Legolas, do not burden her."[2] The darker man with the obviously unwashed hair said in a language that she did not understand and she squinted further, her irises now just two dark slivers peeking out from between the fleshy lids that covered them. He turned to her again. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Legolas of the Woodland Realm."  
  
Her eyes slackened their squint and she studied the specks of gray in Aragorn's eyes. "I'm Beverly."  
  
"And where does Beverly hail from?" a third man asked, her name coming out as if it were the worst curse he knew.  
  
Aragorn put out his right hand as if to stop the third man that had formerly been leaning against a tree idly listening to their conversation. "This is Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, my lady."  
  
Beverly closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm so confused," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.Boromir advanced, regardless of Aragorn's silent warning.   
  
"I would expcet one of Saruman's spies to feign ignorance." The other five men intensified their eavesdropping and Aragorn visibly winced at Boromir's blunt behavior.  
  
"This is no spy," Legolas said in a voice barely above a whisper. Aragorn nodded, but in the background Beverly heard someone snort and say "What would an elf know about spies?"  
  
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Footnotes:  
  
[1] - "Hiril nin", as most of you probably already know, means "my lady" in Sindarin. Since my elvish is actually under that of a novice, this phrase was ripped off of councilofelrond.com which is an excellent site.  
  
[2] - I have absolutely no clue what the Sindarin translation of that phrase is. If any of you do, please please share that with me! 


	2. Interesting Sentiments

Disclaimer: Rights to LotR + Me = [EQUATION INVALID]  
  
UNPLUGGED  
  
Chapter Two: Interesting Sentiments  
  
By SilentBanshee  
  
"There's one thing I really just don't understand." Beverly sat on a fallen log about two feet from a small fire that a short, hairy-footed man was using to cook with. "How did I get here?"  
  
"You would be the only one here who could possibly answer that," Aragorn replied as he sat against the base of a tree, resting his legs and, occassionally, his eyes. "We found you washed up on the shore. You're lucky, there's a falls not far from here and I fear you would have a better chance for survival with orcs than rauros."  
  
Beverly visibly blanched at the thought of going over a waterfall and shifted her position on the log so that her hands were now on either side of her a nd her legs were outstretched.  
  
"I think I'd rather go over a waterfall than end up in the hands of an orc," the halfing toasting a pan of tomatoes mumbled to himself.  
  
"Are they really that bad?" Beverly questioned, her voice flat with a note of disinterest.  
  
"Worse, lassie." The stout, bushy-haired warrior remarked from three feet behind her. "They're putrid, festering creatures with no respect for life. Eat you alive they would if we hadn't found you."  
  
"I don't think I really believe you," she said and noticed the blonde's upper lip twitch into a half-smirk. "You make them sound positively evil and I don't believe in pure evil."  
  
The Dwarf grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"That's an interesting sentiment, mind elaborating?" Aragorn bit the side of his tongue to fight back a smile.  
  
"There's no such things as a bad person, just bad events. A person may exhibit heroic behavior in one situation and then dasterdly behavior in another."  
  
"So, you don't believe in heroes?" Aragorn pressed on, no longer amused.  
  
"I don't believe anyone is inherently heroic, if that's what you're asking."  
  
"It is."  
  
Gimli looked over the rest of his companions, not having really grasped what Aragorn and the fellowship's new ward were discussing.  
  
"Where's Frodo?" Merry asked as he reached for a wrinkly, and particularly bloated, tomato. The cook, Sam, widened his eyes and scanned the small clearing.  
  
"Better yet, where's Gondor's son?"  
  
Aragorn got up to look for Boromir and the wandering halfling as Legolas motioned in the direction of the ruins of Anon Hen. Aragorn nodded and then disappeared into the woods.  
  
"Get up." Legolas offered Pippin a hand. "The enemy approaches."  
  
A smell that strongly reminded Beverly of a latrine permeated the riverside air, announcing the presence of an even more disgusting creature. Gimli brandished his axe, readying h imself for the attack. Legolas, however, looked over the three hobbits and human woman, slight annoyance playing on his face. "No, Gimli," he said as he put one hand on Gimli's shoulder. Legolas turned again to the four weakest members of the Company, told them to run, and then went off to kill some orcs with Gimli.  
  
There were many things that Beverly excelled at. Listening to music at a volume that would make any elven ears with a three mile radius bleed, for instance, was near the top of the list. But of all the impressive feats she could perform, fighting was not one of them. Unfortunately, backing away in fear didn't make the cut either so Beverly was stuck imploring the use of impressive feat #17-a -- climbing high up into the trees.  
  
And there she sat--right between a bushy clump of leaves and a centipede--while she listened to the sounds of the battle that was going on thirteen feet below her. She looked around at her surroundings, judging its sturdiness. Once satisfied, she lifted her legs and folded them over her lap in the Lotus position. Placing either hand, palm up, on its coordinating thigh, she closed her eyes and sought out her right index finger with her mind. After isolating said digit, she focused on the blood travelling through it and moved on, inch by inch, to the rest of her body until she no longer heard the shrieking sound of death and the soft squishing that a neck made when severed.  
  
She was in her garden, watching a bee help impregnate a flower when the blond elf prodded her forearm with an unreadable expression on his face. "Are you awake?"  
  
"I'm awake," she answered with her eyes still closed but already the smell of lavender and nearby pine had been replaced with matellic blood that infiltrated the senses and left you tonguing the top of your mouth in irritation.  
  
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White-Witch-Sakura: Thank you so much! Hope this chapter met your standards. =)  
  
LostBlueDreams: Wow, you really helped inflate my ego! Feel free to pour on the compliments anytime and I'm sorry it took me so long to update.  
  
Fantasyqueen21: Mandy-cakes, I love you. 


	3. Muted Amethyst

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah...I have no rights.  
  
P.S.: I'm not too happy with how this turned out so please show mercy in your reviews.  
  
UNPLUGGED  
  
Chapter Three: Muted Amethyst  
  
By SilentBanshee  
  
Getting Beverly out of the tree had been an easy enough task for Legolas to accomplish. What he would have to do afterward, however, took a more considearable amount of effort; not only for him, but also for the rest of what remained of the fellowship.  
  
"How did this happen?" Beverly asked through a gasp after returning o the clearing where they had made camp. Boromir lay on the other side with three black arrows sticking out of his chest.  
  
Aragorn looked at her with a sharp, and decidedly unfriendly, eye before returning to his task of removing the arrows from his fallen friend.  
  
"I hope you don't require an answer for that, young missy." Gimli sounded tired and Beverly noted that the roughness was missing from his baritone.  
  
Beverly advanced further, moving to stand by the Dwarf now tha the Elf had gone to help Arathorn's son prepare the body.  
  
"Aren't you going to bury him?" Beverly asked no one in particular, noticing that no grave had yet been dug out.  
  
"Rauros will provide him with a burial." Beverly flinched at Aragorn's words and, for a brief moment, she thought she saw Gimli and Legolas share in her reaction. Aragorn and Legolas lifted the now arrow-less form of Boromir and carried him to the boats. Gimli and the human woman watched them place the corpse into one of the elven-made canoes and Beverly studied the way death had affected the fair Gondorian soldier that she barely knew. His face had grown pale and the blood that hadn't been spilt could be seen through his skin. Muted amethyst stained the hollow beneath his cheekbones and the place under his jaw. Much of the discoloration--though it was unknown to her--was due more to the poison the enemy had dipped their arrowheads in than the actual process of expiration.  
  
She turned away when the man and the Elf waded out into the river, pushing their friend into the currents. The sun caught the meal of Boromir's swords and danced on it for the short minutes that it took for the funeral vessel to reach the drop.  
  
"The fellowship has failed," Gimli said from the shore and stared at the river.  
  
Aragorn broke his staring contest with the water and looked to his right. "No, Gimli. As long as we stay ture to eachothe, we have not failed." Aragorn turned his back to the water and looked around him in contemplation. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death."  
  
"What of the woman?" Legolas spoke softly to Aragorn, confident that she couldn't hear their discussion.  
  
"What do you mean?" Aragorn followed Legolas' gaze and saw her sitting in the same position that Legolas had found her in a little over an hour ago. "What do you mean? She comes with us."  
  
Legolas turned to look at Aragorn. "She will slow us down."  
  
"Legolas, we travel with a dwarf."  
  
Legolas smiled and breath escaped through his nostrils. "True, but," he grew serious as he looked at her again. "Look at her, she's in naught but a nightgown."  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I know, which is all the more reason why she cannot be left to the uruks." Aragorn left to help their new travelling companion ready herself and answer a few questions that he knew she must be wanting to ask.  
  
Legolas stood there a moment longer to think about Aragorn's words, but his mind kept going back to the serene look on her face when she was in the tree and the fellowship was busy falling apart. With a feeling of dread seeping into his pores, he left his spot and went about retreiving the rest of his arrows from the bodies of his victims. He had spent centuries training as an assassain and had perfected the art of the kill while still saving his arrows from extensive damage, but--despite all of that--three of the Lorien-made arrows were ruined beynd repai and Legolas half-wanted to go back up the river to replace those three. "And leave Beverly there." His voiced thought was spoken much too softly for anyone to have overheard him but still Legolas felt guilt stab him in the side with a shortblade.  
  
"Legolas, we leave!" Legolas' view of Aragorn was blocked by a thick wall of trees, but the voice was hardly muffled and Legolas guessed that at most ten yards seperated the two of them.  
  
Legolas' estimation was off by two yards and he blamed his inaccuracy on the heightened level of stress he was dealing with.  
  
"We travel light," Aragorn announced the moment he sensed Legolas was back.  
  
Beverly stood and looked down at her nightgown. It had been styled in a Victorian fashion and was her favorite but she knew that it would seriously decrease her running speed. "I can't run in this."  
  
Gimli sighed, recognizing that she was about to delay his chance to murder a few orcs while Legolas frowned and again though about leaving her with his Lorien kin.  
  
"Here," Aragorn removed spare clothing from the only remaining boat and mentally scolded himself for sending all hobbit clothing over the falls with Boromir.  
  
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Kyandoru and TheRagingQuiet: Thanks for the reviews and hope you like the update. :-) 


	4. Oxygen Deprivation

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all except for the lyrics to "Pilgrim" which belongs to the ever-lovely Enya and the character Beverly who belongs to me. (Yay, I own something!)  
  
UNPLUGGED: Chapter Four  
  
Oxygen Deprivation  
  
By SilentBanshee  
  
Beverly had gone insane and Legolas kept muttering something about Lothlorien. All she would ever talk about was commodities that her male companions had never before heard of and, for the fourth time since she had awoken at Amon Hen, Aragorn asked her--rather pointedly--where it was that she had come from. Her coloring was too light to be Gondorian yet too dark to be Rohoric and she was far too tal to be from Bree.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Beverly said in a sing-song voice that she only used when in a state of delirium or when her ponytail was simply too tight, and she wasn't wearing her hair in a ponytail.  
  
"She's gone mad," Gimli called from several feet behind Aragorn. They were on their second day of travel and Aragorn insisited that they not rest for any longer than it took to take a drink from a waterskin which was hardest on Gimli who claimed that the lembas had given him "indigestion." So since yesterday, they had been carrying on converstations while running to keep boredom at bay and to promote breathing, which both the human woman and the Dwarf had been having difficulty with and twice now has Beverly brought up mp3's and computers in her grumblings.  
  
"Why don't you tell us anyway?" Aragorn called back from the lead. Legolas closely followed him.  
  
"All right," she answered, the wind staining her cheeks a pink that threatened to turn blue if subjected to the wind's bite for much longer. "Orginally, I'm from Connecticut, but I moved to New York when I was nineteen."  
  
"I recognize neither place," Legolas remarked while mentally scanning through all the place to the East that he had heard of."  
  
"New York...is that your husband's home?"  
  
Beverly let a laugh escape her oxygen-deprived lungs. "I don't have a husband, thank God."  
  
Legolas raised his left eyeborw at this, stopped running, and turned to face her. "Not an advocate for marriage?"  
  
"Not the way people where I'm from marry, atleast. Marriages don't last long there."  
  
The Elf scoffed at this and waited for her to catch up to him. "No mortal marriage lasts for long."  
  
"I think she meant in mortal terms, mellon nin." Aragorn laughed and stopped running and put his ear to the ground.  
  
"Yes, well, humans here are just as loyal to their 'loves'."  
  
"Well," she panted for breath as she finally caught up to the platinum blond Elf. "Glad to know things don't change."  
  
"You fear change, hiril nin?"  
  
"I fear losing something I hold dear because of a change."  
  
"What would you lament losing?" The Elf smiled.  
  
"Well," she was silent for a moment as she thought. "I lost my muisc when I came here."  
  
Legolas parted his lips and squinted his eyes. "Music? Is that what you have been longing for? We have music here. What do you wish to hear?" He put his hands on his hips and Beverly swore that she had seen roosters look less smug.  
  
"You'll sing for me?" Her smile grew in a way that Legolas did not like. He nodded. "All right, sing 'Sympathy for the Devil'."  
  
Blank stare.  
  
"'Unchained Melodies'."  
  
Blank stare.  
  
"'Hey Ya'?" She smiled at Legolas's quizzical stare.  
  
"I know not any of those."  
  
"I didn't think so." She turned to find a rock that might offer her some privacy from the three sets of nearby eyes even if it wouldn't save her from elven ears.  
  
"Teach me them."  
  
Her head snapped back to look at Legolas. "What?"  
  
Legolas smiled and noted the annoyed look Gimli shot at him. "Teach me them," he repeated, enunciating his words in a way specifically designed to aggrevate insolent women.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not, lassie?"  
  
"Because I don't have all the words memorized to all of them."  
  
"So, sing a song you do know."  
  
"Fine, what soft of song do you want to hear?"  
  
"Your favorite," Legolas answered before Gimli could.  
  
"You wouldn't like my favorite."  
  
"Second favorite then." Aragorn offered as he stood.  
  
"All right." She sighed. "This is a song I liked when I was still in Connecticut."  
  
Pilgrim, how you journey  
on the road you chose  
to find out why the winds die  
and where the stories go.  
All days come from one day  
that much you must know,  
you cannot change what's over  
but only where you go.  
One way leads to diamonds,  
one way leads to gold,  
another leads you only  
to everything you're told.  
In your heart you wonder  
which of these is true;  
the road that leads to nowhere,  
the road that leads to you.  
  
Will you find the answer  
in all you say and do?  
Will you find the answer  
In you?  
Each heart is a pilgrim,  
each one wants to know  
the reasons why the winds die  
and where the stories go.  
Pilgrim, in your journey  
you may travel far,  
for pilgrim it's a long way  
to find out who you are...  
Pilgrim, it's a long way  
to find out who you are...  
  
Pilgrim, it's a long way  
to find out who you are.  
  
"How does it end?" Aragorn asked, his face showing no mirth.  
  
"What do you mean? That is the end," she replied with a small, nervous laugh.  
  
"Does he come to terms with himself?"  
  
She shurgged in response. "I doubt it."  
  
The Dwarf "hurmph"-ed. "Aren't you the cheerful one?"  
  
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Author's Notes (also known as My Desperate Pleading):  
  
Reviews make me happy. Happiness makes me write. Capice? 


	5. Inner Recesses

Disclaimer: Ya know what? I'm infringing on a copyright no matter what disclaimer I put here so why not just say that I own it all?  
  
AN: I need a beta-reader and an over-all motivator. I need someone who can spot some general grammatical errors and harass me into posting in a more timely manner.  
  
UNPLUGGED  
  
Chapter Five: Inner Recesses  
  
By SilentBanshee  
  
"Aragorn?" Beverly whispered into the night as she crept forth at a speed that an iceberg could outrun. The dehydrated earth beneath her booted feet cracked and shifted, announcing her presence to Aragorn even before she spoke. "I need to talk."  
  
Aragorn had been expecting this, had been waiting for this. She had been with them for four days slowing them down and he was becoming anxious to be rid of her. "Then talk."  
  
Beverly sighed, her eyelids closing, and then moved to sit across from Aragorn who had shifted to sit straighter against the base of the rock.  
  
"I just want to thank you," she inhaled and looked down, studying the way the leggings sagged around her legs. The leggings had belonged to the Elf and only now did she realize just how thing she had become over the past few years and she could feel her stomach acids burning their way up her throat in disgust. She looked up again, making eye contact with the ranger. "I'm not very fast. Or strong. If I weren't here, you probably would have caught up to your hobbits friends; I'm sorry."  
  
Aragorn sat silent for a moment. His dealings with human women had been limited but even he recognized that she was dangerously close to crying and he did not want to deal with a hysterical woman. "At Amon Hen, you said that a person can be both good and evil."  
  
Beverly furrowed her brow, drew her lips together, and nodded.  
  
"You cannot help being who you are, though I will admit you have shown that you have limitations, but perhaps, in a different circumstance, you will overcome them."  
  
She sat quiet, only having understood half of what he said though she had absorbed his meaning in full. He would not judge. "What do you plan to do with me?"  
  
"Rohan is not just inhabited by rocks. You will be deposited in the first village we cross."  
  
Beverly nodded, having suspected this, though she now wondered if she liked the prospect of living amongst the peasants of Rohan. She had washed clothes with a washing machine before, but she doubted very much that a Rohiric village would have sinks and running water…or liquid soap. "Aragorn?" I'm scared. "I think, when morning comes, the three of you should leave without me."  
  
Aragorn visibly flinched and he had to remind himself that she was foreign and not likely to realize that she had just insulted him. "No, my lady, that would not be possible."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Aragorn shifted against the rock once more and squinted to see Beverly through the dark blue veil that the night had deposited between them. Shadows hid the right half of her face, making the left look even more skeletal. "You may believe that there is good to be found in orcs, but you cannot deny the evil in the uruk-hai."  
  
The muscles in her heart contracted and she suddenly was very aware of her breasts. "Why not? They cannot be mindless, I refuse to accept that. There must be something to motivate them. There must be humanity to appeal to."  
  
Aragorn let a humorless laugh escape him, his stale breath escaping from his dust-coated throat. "Have you always been such an optimist?"  
  
Her laugh matched his and her mouth smiled without her heart's consent. "Most people have called me the opposite."  
  
"Have they not talked to you?"  
  
"Not like this." She sighed and her heart squeezed itself tighter a second time and she felt her salty tears itch at the corners of her eyes. "I'm a little strange. I don't like what my society has become."  
  
Aragorn thought he heard a disturbance in the soil nearby and was now becoming eager to finish this conversation. "Which would be?"  
  
She laughed again and, this time, her eye's gritty water escaped and was captured by her lashes. "Mass-produced. That sword on your hip…someone spent hours making that. Your clothing, too, was hand-made, wasn't it?"  
  
"What other way is there?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes until the lashes nearest the corners got tangled in each other. "Machines."  
  
Aragorn stared at her, watching a second set of tears leave her ducts only to die on her cheekbones. She was pale, was the gray sort of pale that he associated with very old age and malnourishment. Her lips twitched and her cheeks' salty sheen sparkled in a moonbeam. Her face smoothed out in an instant and she opened her mouth, brittle words leaping off of her tongue in a song that wasn't as well-sung or melodic as yesterday's tune, but still was able to wrap its syllables around the smooth-muscled organ in Aragorn's chest and squeeze.  
  
There is a rapture that my soul desires  
There is a something that I cannot name.  
I know n ot after what my soul aspires  
Nor guess from when the restless longing came  
But ever since my childhood have I felt it  
In all things beautiful, in all things gay  
And ever has its gentle unseen presence  
Falling like a shadow cloud across my way.  
  
It is the melody in all sweet music  
In all fair forms it is the hidden grace.  
In all I love, a something that escapes me,  
Flies by pursuit and ever visits face.  
I see it in the woodlands, silver beauty  
I feel it in the very breathing of the air.  
I stretch my hand to grasp for I can't touch it  
When I do, well I know it is not there.  
  
La la la la la la  
La la la la la la  
La la la la la  
La la la la la  
La la la la la  
La la la la la la la la  
  
But ever since my childhood have I felt it  
In all things beautiful, in all things gay  
And ever has its gentle unseen presence  
Falling like a shadow cloud across my way.  
  
There is a rapture.  
  
"You sound like an elf."  
  
She scoffed and stood. "Ironic then, isn't it, that the only elf here dislikes me more than the Dwarf?"  
  
"That's not true."  
  
She nodded with her eyes downcast and returned to the bedroll that Aragorn had lent her. "Yes, it is."  
  
Aragorn relaxed his posture, the rock pressing into his back intimately, spooning the ranger in its indestructible embrace. Aragorn picked up his pipe, removed some weed from a pouch and began suckling the wooden apparatus. "You can come out of hiding now, Legolas."  
  
"I thought you might have heard me." Legolas leaned against a rock opposite of Aragorn's. "Forgive me, my friend; I did not want to intrude."  
  
Aragorn nodded, letting the smoke invade every inner recess of his lungs.  
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White-Witch-Sakura: Thanks for the review and I agree...there should be more reviews!  
  
Kyandoru: Glad I made you happy...hopefully, you're just as pleased with this chappie.  
  
FantasyQueen21: Hey, Manda-bear...I'm expecting to explain how she got there in the upcoming chapters. 


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